


Stimulus & Stimulant

by PoetHrotsvitha



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (Because of the sex pollen), Crack, Dubious Consent, Multi, Poe POV, Sex Pollen, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 20:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoetHrotsvitha/pseuds/PoetHrotsvitha
Summary: Poe Dameron's day is about to take a turn for the incredibly weird.





	Stimulus & Stimulant

**Author's Note:**

> BIG thank you to JenfysNest and Minstrels for doing a beta! And of course to JenfysNest for the lovely, lovely moodboard <3

It’s true that the Resistance has always been a bit... scattershot. 

When Poe joined, one of his first jobs had been to try and talk others around to the cause so that their numbers weren’t so lean— which he’d done, and well. But it feels different to do it the second time around. Especially when he was personally involved in the disaster that led to things being so firmly down the shitter. It’s a good thing that he’s not the type to stay discouraged for too long. It's never too early to rally and get focused on raising morale. 

It’s not a feeling that Rey shares, apparently. 

It’s not that she isn’t clearly committed. He hasn’t met anyone who throws themselves into a task quite like Rey does. But she’s always sitting at the edge of the group, a little removed, a little distant. It’s like there’s some part of her that is... Somewhere else. Somewhere that no one can get to. 

Poe would _ really _like to know where that place is. 

* * *

They’ve been trawling planets in search of kyber crystal, something to adequately repair Rey’s sabre with. As ever, Poe gets the sense that Rey would be rather be doing this alone, but the General had been firm. He’s the one who’s most available, which is how he ends up piloting (because he insisted— he always pilots), cheerfully chatting about that one time he woke up caught in a net and BB-8 freed them with a welding torch. Rey nods along and gazes out into space. If he didn't know better— he tells good stories, after all— he might think her mind is a million miles away. 

The terrain is rough and they have to leave BB-8 behind on the ship. They’ve barely made it two minutes before something stomps through the underbrush and the worst-case-scenario is standing in front of them; everyone reaches for their respective weapons, the red lightsaber igniting with a spit and a hiss, Poe’s trusty blaster in his hand, Rey’s staff lifted into a defensive position. 

It’s a tense standoff. Poe doesn’t know why Baby Vader’s mask now looks like it’s been glued together like a child's art project, but it still sounds plenty ominous when the idiot speaks. “Jedi,” he says, the rumbling sound making the hairs on the back of Poe’s neck stand up. 

Rey lifts her chin defiantly. “Kylo Ren.” 

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” 

It’s very rude to ignore the other party present. “Hey, Supreme Weiner!” Poe gives a quick two-fingered salute as Baby Vader glances over. “Interrogate this, asshole—” Two shots, fired from his hip, sail dead towards the stupid mask. 

It’s infuriating, really, the way that he spins his saber, an almost-lazy air to the twist of his wrist. The shots bounce off harmlessly, zipping into the underbrush. God only knows what they hit there, but it explodes in a red plume of... Something. Smoke? It feels like there are particles of it and it immediately gets _ everywhere_, into Poe’s eyes and his nose and his mouth. His _ ears_. Rey is choking as well, waving her hands in front of her face. 

It makes the back of his head buzz. That’s not a good sign, and neither is the way his fingertips start to tingle. There’s a bizarre staccato of low-pitched sneezing coming from across the clearing, so whatever it is, it’s made its way through any breathing apparatus there might be in Baby Vader’s dumb mask. Even as Poe regains the ability to breathe, the rumble-sneezes don’t stop, and he can only hope that the mask is actually trapping the pollen in there. 

Apparently Baby Vader agrees, because a latch hisses loose and he reaches up to yank his mask off. 

Poe has never spared much thought to the appearance of the monster under the mask. But whatever he expected, it wasn’t _ this_, young and pale with the scar down the side of his face. The powder-whatever has gotten into his hair; he rakes his gloves through it, little clouds of red rising with each swipe. 

This is crazy. This is crazy, right? He looks to Rey for confirmation but she looks inexplicably... Sad, her eyes soft. A quick glance back at Baby Vader shows that he’s stopped trying to fix his hair— there’s a tuft of it sticking up in the back now— and he’s staring back, looking starstruck and stupid, mouth opening and closing over and over. 

This is strange. It’s _very_ strange. 

And it only starts to get stranger, because the tingling feeling is spreading over his whole body. His skin feels desperately tight and sensitive, like even the touch of the fabric of his clothes is too much. He tries to mumble “what is this,” to himself, but his volume is a bit wonky and off, and he ends up shouting “WHAT IS THIS,” instead, making Rey and Baby Vader whip around to look at him directly. 

And Rey is— something is going on, because she’s panting and her cheeks are flushed red. Baby Vader doesn’t look too great either, blinking too many times, his fingers tugging at his collar. 

Poe’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. It’s 100% time to leave. He wants to coax Rey but that's somehow too much work, so instead he reaches towards her as well as he can. He’ll drag her away and they’ll regroup. 

The moment he wraps his fingers around her arm, though, things go straight to hell. Rey gasps in a way that is absolutely, without a doubt _sexual, _which makes sparks fire in his brain and completely knocks his thinking out of orbit. It also means they don’t get out of the way in time when Kylo Ren lunges towards them, breaking into a lumbering run; maybe he means them harm, but by the time he actually gets close enough to do any, all he does is trip over his robes and barrel directly into them. 

They go down like bowling pins. Poe’s got an elbow in his side and he’s not sure whose it is, but he does know that someone is grinding against his dick. Someone female, a quick pat confirms. _ Rey_. Rey who smells really very good, and who is reaching around Poe to grab Kylo Ren by the hair and pull him to— to— okay, they’re kissing now, right over his shoulder, which should be a lot more alarming. Instead all Poe’s brain can conjure is all the ways that he could get involved. 

Kylo Ren seems to agree. He’s got one hand on Rey’s waist, the solid muscle of his arm bunched against Poe’s flank, but the other comes up and strokes through Poe’s hair. The lightest brush against his ear makes him feel like he’s discovering nerves there that he didn’t know existed, the kind that give him goosebumps and makes heat tighten in his stomach. 

Rey suddenly breaks free, breathy and glazed. “Ben.” 

_ Ben? _ That’s different. It sounds good coming from Rey’s lips, so Poe tries it out too, rounding the vowel in his mouth. “Ben. _ Beeeeen_. Ben.” 

“Shut up,” _ Ben _ mumbles, but the hand cupping at Poe’s face just pats his cheek absently, so Poe takes it as an invitation to press a kiss to his palm. Ben’s grip gets a little tighter so Poe does it again, and again, until he’s kissing up a finger and pulling it into his mouth, swirling his tongue against the rough pad. Ben’s low groan goes straight to his head. Poe is the _ best _at sucking things. 

This is fucking weird, sure, but the distant knowledge of that is immediately eclipsed by Rey’s fumbling attempts to get his shirt open, each brush of her fingers against his neck making bright sparks of sensation flicker across his skin. He’d really like to get her properly in his lap and there doesn’t seem to be anything stopping that, so he scoots until he can shift her up. She refuses to stop kissing Ben but obediently wriggles into place, which feels _ phenomenal_. He’s not even sure when he got hard but he’s sure as hell stiff as a pike now, especially when she rolls her hips in just the right way, liquifying what’s left of his brain. 

Her hair is so pretty. And her neck. And Ben’s hair, actually, which has fallen into perfect neat waves at some point. How has he never noticed how pretty Rey is? Never properly truly noticed, that is, the way that little freckles are dusted across her skin, and the perfect delicate upturn of her nose. Ben is moving, scooting around in a completely undignified way so that he can get closer to Rey without Poe between them, trying to take her arm wraps off. This is a _ brilliant _idea so Poe tries to help, but they’re both prevented by Rey taking the initiative and yanking her top up and tossing it away. Which was an even more brilliant idea— how had he not noticed how smart she is? 

She’s still in his lap but half twisted around towards Ben, now, which means Poe can watch as Ben dips his head to mouth at her breast through a standard-issue grey breastband. Rey’s wriggling intensifies, and it’s great on his dick— kind of chafing, sure, but he’s too distracted by the spray of Ben’s lashes against his pale cheek to really do anything about it immediately. 

Rey has other ideas. She accidentally knocks his nose when she rushes to yank the bra up, apparently desperate to get the feel of Ben’s lips against her skin. Another good idea all around, to the point where they all lose the thread of their efforts for a second because they’re trying to disrobe at once— Ben is definitely having the hardest time, with all of the frankly unnecessary buckles and straps. 

Poe is sure that he had some other reason for disliking Ben unrelated to his clothing choices, but he can’t remember it at the moment. 

Rey gets so impatient that she snaps her fingers and the last buckle holding Ben’s pants in place breaks in two. Poe doesn’t know a lot about how the force works but he’s also pretty sure that isn’t the way it’s meant to be used. Not that he’s complaining. Especially when Ben shuffles out of the pants onto his knees and both Poe and Rey stop moving to stare at the massive erection that springs up against his stomach. 

Poe doesn’t _ get _ self-conscious. It's not in his nature. He’s doing pretty well in the dick department, and no one has ever complained. It’s a good thing that this is the case, because _ if _he were that kind of man, Ben’s dick would probably inspire a little bit of sad contemplative drinking somewhere down the line. 

Rey never takes her eyes off the monster of the thing, dropping forward onto her forearms like she’s been magnetised. It means she can lean forward and lightly lick at the head of it, making Ben groan, his eyes rolling back into his head. It also has the really distracting effect of leaving Poe staring directly at Rey’s ass as she shifts onto her knees. She’s wet, he can see now, can practically smell it in the air. He strokes a gentle finger there and she moans— it’s a garbled sound, because she’s quickly escalated to full-on sucking— and every single bit of his thinking shifts to how much he’d like to put his dick in there. 

“Can I,” he starts, mouth drying up when his finger slips into her almost accidentally, she’s so soft and wet. “Um, Rey, I’m gonna—” 

She lifts off Ben’s dick long enough that he lets out a little plaintive moan and grabs for her hair. “Yes, _ yes_, please, now—” 

Which is how Poe ends up sinking balls-deep into the last jedi, barely able to think or breathe, not sure where to put his hands, frantically gripping at her hips and her waist in turn. He has about five seconds to fully focus on that, because Ben grabs at one of his wrists, yanking him closer until— 

Wow, Ben has the softest lips that Poe’s ever felt on anyone. It’s not like he’s made a ranking, exactly, but he’s pretty sure all the same. It’s strange to be connected to two different people at once, but Rey’s wriggling and tightening in a way that sends flushes of heat straight through his hips. It’s helpful that Ben’s lips keep him distracted enough that he doesn’t lose it immediately— not that he’s ever had an issue with that. Of course. 

Some distant part of his brain is scolding him that Rey’s going to need a bit more attention, that they’ll need to help her with fingers or something but— okay, never mind, if that long groan and a series of spasms mean anything, Rey’s managed to get there without any help at all. This is all so incredibly weird. 

Her groan makes Ben moan too, the sound smothered by Poe’s tongue because they’ve escalated to open mouths by this point, and Ben’s grip gets punishingly tight until he’s shuddering as well. Weirdly, the possessiveness of the hold really _ does _something for Poe, to the point where the heat reaches a boiling point and he’s yelling too, coming wildly, straight into Rey’s warmth. Who cares if it's quick, really? Not Poe. 

It's so soul-shattering that he slowly tips sideways when it’s finished, collapsing into the dirt and ramming his elbows in a way that’s going to hurt later. He’s a changed man. Nothing will ever be the same. He can lie here with his eyes closed in an eternal and peaceful rest. 

But it’s a short-lived eternal rest because he feels something warm and wet against his spent dick, soft hair brushing on his thighs. He blinks his eyes open and Rey is smiling down at him near his face, which means that— that’s Ben down there, as a quick glance confirms, making everything churn in his stomach again like the best, wildest drop while piloting an X-wing, the kind that makes your ears pop and your pulse throb in your chest— 

“Let’s do that again,” Rey breathes, and all coherent thought dissolves into nothing. 

* * *

“Poe! Wake up!” 

Poe does not want to wake up. He’s having a really great dream about sharing a sweet Tibanna split with Finn and Rose, and also everyone is naked, and he’d like to stay in that headspace. 

Someone rudely prods him again anyway. “Come on!” 

He blinks his eyes open to a brilliant carpet of stars, so dense above the canopy of trees that it’s nearly blinding. Once he moves past that realisation, he can feel the way that his clothes are... Somewhere else. Somewhere else not on his body. And that Rey is standing over him. “Oh my god,” he mumbles, trying to move his hands over his crotch. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Rey snaps, “but get moving. I’ve found most of your clothes.” She dumps them on him and he vaguely wishes she’d led with that. “We have to get _ him _ back to the Resistance.” 

The day is gradually trickling back to him. It's like a deranged fever dream. “Did... I make out with Kylo Ren?” 

“Yes. A lot. Hurry up.” 

He struggles into his trousers and boots, deciding that the rest can wait. When he goes to join Rey, he finds her standing over the monster himself. 

“I think you actually killed him with your vagina,” Poe says, staring down at Baby Vader, sprawled out and naked on the forest floor. He looks oddly peaceful. 

If Rey were any redder she’d be a tomato. “Help me,” she mutters, grabbing an arm and hefting him up. Poe does the same, and between them, they drag the giant along on his knees. Kylo Ren starts to mutter as his head lolls on his shoulders, incoherently mumbling something about “Rey” and “pretty” that is frankly embarrassing for everyone involved. 

More details are starting to swim back to the surface of Poe’s brain as he breathes in the cool night air, muscles burning with effort. “Why were we calling him Ben?” 

“That’s his name.” 

“No shit?” 

She nods. “Ben Solo.” 

“Ben So— _ Solo? _ That Solo, Solo?” 

Rey nods again. 

“The General’s husband, Solo? Wait, is he the General’s son? Kylo Ren is Leia’s son?” 

She nods once more, but she’s starting to look annoyed now. It might be his questions, or it might be that they’re dragging a hairless wookie along between them with their ship still almost 100 paces away. It’s probably the latter. _ He_, after all, is charming. 

Once back in the ship with Kylo Ren— Ben— whatever— secured in one of the bunks, Rey and Poe lift into space in a shell-shocked silence. It’s the kind of very specific quiet experienced by two people who just unwittingly had marathon orgasms with a man who is both the leader of the opposition and their General’s _ son_. It is both commiserative and awkward. The kyber crystal search will clearly have to wait another day. 

BB-8 chirps and beeps with questions, but Poe can’t quite summon any answers yet. The fact is that anyone else would want to crumble into a million pieces, maybe jump into an escape pod as soon as possible. Run away from the Resistance to some distant uninhabited planet and never return. 

Good thing Poe isn’t that man. He never stays uncomfortable for long. 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my GOD Poe's voice is hard (eyyyy)
> 
> Anyway I'm on twitter @hrotsvitha_g


End file.
